


Value

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: The Outsider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:17:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaction!fic for "The Outsider". Gold has a moment of weakness, and Dr. Whale bears witness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Value

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still bleeding. You? I noticed something - I think Gold’s cane was left under the car, and I hope that’s true, because of what it signifies as his crutch of magick… Mandatory reaction fic. Because I think there’s no coincidence that next week is a Frankenstein episode…

The breath that left him was shuddering, and thin. He was bowed over in the chair, both of his shaking hands clutching at the threadbare old shawl, the ancient thing centuries old, but still in one piece due to naught more than much care and sentimentality. His thumbs caressed the worn wool, treasuring it like one would gold.

…or how anyone else would treasure gold. It was something he was becoming increasingly aware of — he, Rumplestiltskin, could spin gold from straw. And as such, something so incredibly precious had lost its value to him, but him alone. Familiarity breeds contempt. He surrounded himself with beautiful things, and by looking at them every day, they became mere things. He took them for granted. Much like Bae before, and now…

It hurt to breathe. He kissed at the shawl, closing his eyes as his mind told him faint traces of her perfume were still there. Before, his heart had been so full of grief and loathing, and a protective, possessive, passionate vengeance… but now it was quite empty. It was as if that thrice-damned, bloody pirate had ripped it out of him with a single shot. There had been hope, tenderness, a panick and thrill, but now…

Now there was an emptiness. There was rage, yes. A fire that burned for something to be done, a price to be paid. But at the moment, his fingers traced the coarse fabric, and he found himself wishing for the smooth wood of his wheel.

_”Oh, she’ll live…”_

He pressed his lips together in a hard line as Dr. Whale echoed the words with a sigh and a flutter of paperwork. “…Her injury was minor. No worries there. But as for the amnesia…” He made a gesture. “Sorry to say it, but magick’s not my area of expertise.”

The spinner nodded softly. “Aye…” He sighed, feeling more like a tired, weak old man than he had in a very, _very_ long time. “No matter what you Deal in, everything comes with a price.”

The brogue was so thick it was hard to understand him, but there was no mistaking the Dark One’s repeated warning. For a moment, scientific curiousity won out over common sense. “And… she was your price?”

It was as if there were strings. The worn, defeated old man drew himself up like a finished puppet, and this new, stronger character took his place. He straightened in his seat, and there was the faintest gesture of where he would rest his claws on the cane that wasn’t there. “Well, that remains to be seen,” he answered, ever soft-spoken, demanding you pay attention. The brogue — and any perceived, momentary weakness — was gone. Whale shivered, memories of dark towers and darker deeds coming unbeckoned. Rumplestiltskin stood, eyes as sharp and calculating as ever. “Tell me, Victor. How is your research coming along?”

Whale’s jaw clenched. “What do you want to know?”


End file.
